My Little Ventrue Pt. 08 Ch. 05

"Right, my..." He blinked at the ghost, glanced between the werewolf on his left, and the hunched man on his right. They hadn't noticed it, but, they were both standing and ready to fight, sort of. Now was as good a time as any to risk a confrontation.

"What?" the ghost asked, confused.

"Sabrina... I never said anything about vitae. Never even said the word."

Clara stood up straighter, and let out a low rumble, deep in her chest, before lowering herself into a semi crouch, ready to pounce. Sándor took a step back, almost falling as he did, but he caught his balance, and took a couple more, away from Sabrina.

"Oh, damn. I screwed up." Sabrina shrugged, and hovered around in a small circle. "I was a pretty good actor though, right? You didn't know I knew, right?"

"You're right. We didn't." He eyed her, blade still in hand. He'd dropped his pistol when the ghosts had caught him, but still, holding onto one weapon during a scuffle was a personal best. "Who are you?" He felt around in the mist behind him with his foot until it found metal, and he slid the pistol over to him, without ever taking his eyes off the woman.

"I was hoping for some more details about Dolareido! But, you dodged any questions I had about vampires. Crafty boy." Shrugging, she hovered closer to them, and as she did, she waved her right hand at her side, like tossing away a ball. Her weapon disappeared into a puff of mist that got sucked into her gray skin and clothes. It was never really a weapon, but an extension of her, same as those sledgehammers had been for those men.

"I uh, guess I am pretty crafty." He kept his eyes on the ghost, but doing so kept the memory of her passing through his body, cold and so very not alive, fresh in his mind. It'd felt like being buried alive. "Wanna tell me who you are?" Sabrina, Mrs. Serial Killer, but he didn't say it. Better to let her say it, and be happier for the reveal.

"Sabrina, like I said. But I suppose if the cat's out of the bag, I can say more." She hovered over head, and circled around, looking left and right. "Quid pro quo?"

He couldn't help but smile. She was smarter than he'd originally thought.

"Alright. You ask first."

"How is Antoinette? Still the Prince?"

Jack rubbed his buzzed head. "Yes, alive and well."

She frowned at that. "Your turn."

"Were you a vampire?"

"No." Well, strike on that connection. "How do you know the Prince?"

"I was Julias's childe, and--"

"Julias's childe?" She tilted her head, and swam toward him, eyes wide. If she'd had a brain in there, he'd have been able to see it.

He took a step back, surprised, but she didn't tackle him or anything. He grinned subtly once he calmed down. That'd been a hint. "How do you know Julias?"

She frowned more, realizing he copied her question. "I met him at one of the Invictus balls." Getting somewhere. "If you're Julias's childe, then, how is Viktor?"

He winced as he looked down. The picture was becoming more and more clear as they spoke. A woman this ruthless and crazy, both in life and death, have been to an Invictus ball, not be a vampire, and be concerned with Viktor? Only one possibility.

"Viktor's dead. I... I'm sorry."

The sad, ruined expression on her face said it all. She'd been one of his ghouls, someone bound by the Vinculum, and also infused with their master's vitae.

"He's... dead?" She grabbed her head and looked down, spinning in place. "Master's dead?"

He winced again. "Yes. You were his ghoul?"

"Yes!" She threw her hands at him, and he stepped back, half expecting them to either detach from her body and come at him, or for her to pounce him and start shredding. They didn't, and she didn't. "Died in a stupid turf war with the Carthians."

"The news said you died when some cops shot you."

She slowly let go of her head, and stared at him, eyes wide, empty sockets cutting straight through his soul. "So you knew about that?"

He forced himself to keep eye contact, and nodded. "Yes... Sabrina Douville."

Saying her full name managed to make her smile, but it vanished quick in her despair.

"Viktor set it up so I could fake my death. It'd take more than a few gunshots to the guts to kill a ghoul. I survived, and worked with my master for five glorious years." She sobbed, a raspy, ghostly sound that almost chilled his insides as much as touching her did. "Who killed the master?"

The quid quo pro game had fallen apart, but he didn't mind.

"Tony did," he said. She hissed, and Jack put up his hands. "He died killing Viktor, him and Rebecca. He got them."

After a heavy, long sigh, she nodded, and hovered a little closer. "So, you're the master's grandchilde?"

"Yes, I am."

"And Julias?"

"Dead, hunters. Now they're dead, too."

The ghost nodded, satisfied, but the expression on her face kept changing rapidly, as did the noises she made. One moment she smiled, happy with his words, the next she wailed, and the whole Underworld echoed with the shrieking sound.

"Sabrina," he said. "I don't know if you were waiting for Viktor, but he died well over two years ago. If he's not here, then he didn't do the ghost thing."

She sniffled, twitched her head around several times, before settling and looking at the ground, defeated. "You're right."

"I don't suppose you could help us get back to the tear we came through in?"

After a few seconds of quiet whines and whimpers, she raised her head, and her gaze softened. Still fucking gross as all hell, a couple of empty eye sockets looking at him, but the expression did a lot to ease his worries.

"I... I was going to keep you around, for a little while. I wanted to learn more about Dolareido, and about my master. But, I forgot about the... the need for people to eat." Laughing, a little maniacally and randomly, she shrugged. "And, if you're Viktor's grandchilde, then I should... I should help you." And back to morose and mourning, wails included.

"Ok, uh... thank you, Sabrina. Did you want anything in return?"

Her eyes opened like a kid on Christmas. "Maybe if someone could visit, once in a while? It gets lonely down here, and getting back to the surface is hard."

He almost asked why she couldn't just come with them. Stupid reflex he hadn't quite suppressed yet, the desire to ask questions honestly. If the serial killer ghost was trapped in the Great Below, or under the impression that she was, all the better. If ghosts needed something, like time or energy or emotions, to punch through to the surface, he was damn happy that he couldn't manually escort her out of the Underworld.

"I'll see what I can do."

"Yay!" Back to happy in an instant, she hovered past him and started down a path.

After a low growl, Clara returned to her human form. Jack watched her, and despite her attempts to hide it, he noticed her stagger and sway. She was exhausted, but still, she grabbed Sándor's good arm, hooked it over her shoulder, and started walking.

Rolling his eyes, he came over to them, pushed Clara out from under Sándor's arm, and got under it instead. He was shorter than either of them, but still tall enough to at least give the man support.

Clara grunted, but gave in when she almost fell over. "Alright, fine." Jack smirked at her, and the three of them started walking. "Jack, were you... singing?"

"Ah, shit, yeah. Seeing those worker dudes really got me remembering a song I've always liked."

Sándor coughed, shaking his head. "An old song."

"Yeah. And, uh, singing can help me stay calm."

"Still scared of trains?" Clara said, laughing quietly, smiling.

"Not scared of trains! Scared of train graveyards, ok? Huge difference. Like, I'm sure there are plenty of adults nowadays, that would shit their pants if they were suddenly in an elephant graveyard, and you can thank Disney for that."

Sándor laughed, a sound Jack bet the man rarely made, but he regretted it a second later, wincing and groaning in pain. "Keep an eye open for anything that would look similar to my castle, the haunted village, or the haunted hospital. The more similar they are, the easier it will be for me to create a pathway home."

"Don't suppose you can cut across the Gauntlet from here and just walk us out of here, Clara?"

She shook her head. "I thought about that, but I don't have a loci. So unless we find an item of spiritual power, I can't Reach across the Gauntlet. An Irakka could go, but--"

The three of them froze as the sound of metal bashing against metal resonated. Sabrina rejoined them quickly, ghost knife in her hand in an instant, and they all looked up as one of the cargo crates went sailing overhead, and then another. When they landed, the sound shook the whole fucking Underworld. A moment later, one of the train carts, many tons of metal, went sliding on its side past them, sparks showering the area. It crashed into another, derailing it, and the sheer mass caused the first one to continue sliding, the friction of metal and ground not enough to bring it to a stop yet.

Weird click and rasp sounds announced who it was. It was the fucking azlu monster, the Host.

"Run, run! I can't fight that," Sabrina said. As she did, the green glow of her body vanished, and she lowered herself closer to the ground. "It's weird, and it hurts."

Weird, and hurts. Yeah, not horrific and gigantic and insanely strong and capable of flipping cars and shoving train carriages or anything. Nope, just weird, and hurts.

Clara took a step toward the noise, but Jack reached out, grabbed her shirt with his free hand, and pulled her back. Literally. Her weight collapsed, ass hit the ground, and he dragged her away from the sound.

"It's going to find us," Clara said, groaning, and glaring up at him over her shoulder. "We have to go on the offensive. We--"

Jack yanked up on her shirt hard enough to get her up on her feet, nudged himself under her closer arm, and started running. Sure, he was a short guy, and had a small frame. In a biological sense, even the great shape he'd gotten himself into wouldn't have been enough to carry two people. But a young vampire, even a Ventrue, could carry a person without trouble. And for him, after a moment to pump vitae through his system, carrying the two of them was easy.

Except, two problems. The more he fought and did things, the more he drained his vitae, and the hungrier he got. And, running with two people, two taller people, draped over his shoulders, just wasn't working. Legs, arms, it all got in the way, and the best he could manage was jogging leaps.

Sabrina stayed beside him, hovering, and when he weaved around some metal fences and a couple train carts, she didn't dodge around them, she went through them. The only reason she stayed with him was because she felt like she had to help him, since he was her master's grandchilde, and he wasn't about to do anything to throw that help away. Maybe she could serve as a distraction?

"Sabrina, slow it down! Don't get hurt, but distract it for a second while we try and hide."

The ghost woman nodded, and faded through layers of metal as she darted off in the direction of the sound. Might as well have been a dinosaur rampaging through a theme park with its power down.

"Jack, just--"

"Shut up." After everything that happened last month, he was not going to put up with some stupid self-sacrificing shit now.

He weaved through the dense maze of metal, until he found a train cart. Surrounded on all sides by cargo crates, some apparently full of bricks, and with some huge train carts sitting on their sides around it, it wouldn't be easy for anyone bigger than a person to get to it. It wouldn't stop a giant spider monster, but it would slow it down.

He dragged his companions through the narrow pathways, forced open the door of the train, and pushed Sándor in, and then Clara. They got the hint quick, and both started to crawl. Without electricity, its insides were dark as fuck, and train carriages weren't small, even if the azlu was strong enough to push them. They were massive, meant to hold fuckloads of cargo, or in this case, people. Rows and rows of chairs meant the two of them had plenty of places to hide, and despite how massive the spider monster was, it wouldn't have an easy time getting at anyone hiding inside.

"Stay here," he said.

"Jack, you can't--"

"Clara, seriously, now's not the time, ok? Just shut up, hide, and take the opportunity to get out of here when you can."

"Sacrificing yourself?"

"What? Fuck no. I'm no werewolf, I'm a fucking vampire. I want you and Sándor to find help, then come rescue my ass."

She fought off a smile until she managed to force a frown at him over her shoulder. "Assuming you're still alive."

"I won't let it kill me. The curse won't let it kill me. But I might end up stuck here, and that'll kill you and Sándor. Worst that happens to me, I find a hole in the ground, and go into a deep torpor. Ok? See, no self-destructive reflex here, just a smart plan." He nodded, and before she could protest, he forced the folding door closed.

And he ran. A shriek from Sabrina, and an alien, beastly shriek from the spider, both came from the direction they'd come from. His plan was to pull the spider away from Clara and Sándor by running perpendicular to its path to them, get its attention, and then somehow lose the spider using his small size.

Or let me out to play. I could take it in a fight.

Can you? This thing is as big as Sándor's Horror, is just as strong, and unlike the gargoyle, it has scythes for arms and eight very long, sharp legs.

We spoke with it. It's afraid of us.

Except we can't mind meld with it. So you're stuck using this body, and--

Stop thinking in terms of terms of flesh, Jack. You think of vitae like it's energy, like gasoline or electricity, running through an undead body of bone and sinew. Vitae is the essence of life, you stupid asswipe. And our body is just a conduit for it. The stronger your Beast grows, the less vitae it needs to unleash its true abilities of blood and soul. It--

I get it, I get it, jackass. And you think you can handle this thing in a fight?

Yeap. You could too, if you could handle yourself better. But me? Easily.

This thing fought off half a pack of werewolves on its own.

Pussies.

Jack rolled his eyes as he ran through the train yard. Ugh, fucking train yards, dead train yards, with rust and empty carriages and steel beams and cargo crate doors half open and knocked over fences and even the god damn warehouse. At least the curse didn't care to ask about the strange childhood fear.

We're not on a kill mission, curse. We just need to scare this thing off, and then we get Sabrina to take us in the direction of the tear.

Fine.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He smiled, looked down at his hands, and smiled some more. It felt good to be in control. It felt really good.

Stop wasting time. Summon your power, and scare the creature off.

Yeah, sure. And after that, we get back to Dolareido, and what, Elaine kills me?

What?

You heard me. I'm always listening, you know that. You think I'm just going to let you kill me?

You're not even alive. The fuck do you care if I remove you.

I care. I damn well fucking care. I'm a part of this vessel, and I refuse to removed like a cancerous limb.

You can't seriously expect me to feel sorry for you, or hell, even believe you.

Fuck you. You'd be dead without me. You're weak. I'm not.

And then he stopped listening. The old Jack didn't know control his mind and focus his thoughts. New Jack did. New Jack had the focus of a predator. New Jack was so much better than Old Jack.

But Old Jack was still pretty damn smart. Even with the curse, Jack was still a Ventrue, without the insane strength of the Daeva and Nosferatu, without the stealth of the Mekhet and Nosferatu, and without the speed of Daeva or Mekhet. But Ventrue, and those stupid Gangrels, could become fucking invincible, and still have enough strength and speed to get the job done. And he could do more; it's how he kicked Sándor's Horror's ass, after all. Old Jack didn't know how to juggle his abilities, to stack and manage his Disciplines, to invoke the powers of the ancient blood with but a drop of essence. New Jack did.

A cargo crate went flying overhead, and another train cart slammed into a metal fence. It was chaos, sparks and loud booms and absurd levels of destruction. It was the sort of scene that made Jack wish he was a Gangrel sometimes, so he could transform his shell and unleash destruction with a form as crazy as the azlu spider monster had. A monster-on-monster fight would be wicked fun. Ah well, he could get things done with his fists and feet just fine; blade too, if it came to that.

He jumped up onto a train carriage, easily a twelve-foot jump he managed without issue, and he landed with a grin on his face as he spotted the spider monster in the distance. Sabrina hovered overhead, circling, knife in hand and an angry expression on her face. Whatever the spider had done to her had hurt, because the right side of her body was torn up and oozing. The azlu wasn't a biological entity, not completely, and its claws probably hurt things of ephemera just like Clara's did. And if those scythe arms nailed him, well, Old Jack would have been split in half like a bitch.

New Jack would laugh, and walk it off.